


Not On

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, M/M, Prompt Fic, Whump, seriously I cannot explain this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are just not on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JWP #30: Words of Warning.  
> Warnings: I am so sorry for this. I think this prompt broke my brain. Complete crack of the 'utterly exhausted and can't come up with anything' variety. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.

“You’re going to die tonight.” The kid was maybe twenty, strung-out, angry, paranoid, and waving a very large gun around.  
  
“Oh please,” Sherlock scoffed, rolling the one eye he could still see out of. “At least do try to say something original.”  
  
_Shut up, Sherlock,_ John thought, unable to say anything aloud thanks to the duct tape sealing his mouth. _You’re only provoking him._  
  
“Oh yeah? Well what about if I shoot your friend, then?” The gun swung towards John.  
  
A loud snort. “Even more cliché. Next you’ll try threatening my mother with unwanted sexual advances.” Sherlock shrugged as dismissively as he could, considering he was cuffed to the chair. “Can’t you think of _anything_ original, or are you just as useless as everyone has ever told you that you are?”  
  
The kid went rigid. “Well, Mr Sherlock-bloody-Holmes, I bet you couldn’t have predicted this!” He swung his gun up beneath his own chin and pulled the trigger. Blood and brains went everywhere.  
  
Sherlock made a disgusted noise and spat to clear his mouth. “Suicide is hardly original.” He shook his head. “Now hurry up and free yourself, John. I can’t stand another minute of this tedious melodrama.”  
  
John woke with a start, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in his ears. He could feel his limbs trembling with adrenaline, although sleep paralysis still held him mostly still. He looked around and saw that the telly was still on, the marathon of Twilight Zone episodes still playing although the volume was set to mute. Sherlock was snoring softly on the sofa. The remnant of takeout boxes cluttered the coffee table.  
  
_That’s it,_ he thought to himself. _No more trying the special curry of the day, no matter if Sherlock says it sounds “interesting”. Cucumber curry is_ not _on._ He heaved himself upright and staggered over to Sherlock. He reached out to touch him on the shoulder, only to jerk back as Sherlock shot upright.  
  
“I will not feed goat soup to my violin!”  
  
John froze. “That’s…good?”  
  
Sherlock inhaled, and awareness returned to his face. “John. I was having the most unpleasant and nonsensical dreams.”  
  
_Never, ever again_ , John reminded himself. “I know. So was I. C’mon. We’re both too tired for sense. Let’s go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 30, 2015


End file.
